


Never Again

by BotchedExperiment



Series: LazyTown more like Hurt/Comfort Town [11]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Coughing, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10060235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BotchedExperiment/pseuds/BotchedExperiment
Summary: Robbie looks tired. Sportacus wonders how long this has been going on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> um this is kinda gross

The crystal wakes him with a soft beep. Sportacus doesn’t want to get out of bed, he really doesn’t, until the crystal shows him who might be in trouble.

Robbie. Of course. Who else would need help in the middle of the night?

He finds his boyfriend focused on a small device on his work bench, tinkering away.

"Robbie!" Sportacus exclaims, appalled at someone actually being awake at this time of night. "What are you doing?"

"I couldn't fall asleep," The villain answers simply, not bothering to look up. He has some kind of magnifying contraption over one eye like inventors wear in movies, flipping it up and then back in front of his eye as needed for his detailed work. "Actually, I won't."

Sportacus frowns. Robbie doesn’t sound so good. "Why-?"

The coughing that erupts from Robbie seems to answer the question he was going to ask. The fit is unrelenting, causing Robbie to grab the edge of his work table and lean on it until his lungs have mercy on him.

Sportacus winces.

Robbie looks tired. Sportacus wonders how long this has been going on. He knew that Robbie had a cold last week, but he'd been spending a lot of time helping prepare for a big town event and had hardly seen Robbie since the preparation began.

Sportacus assumed that he didn't see him around because Robbie didn't want to get stuck helping, or that he was making plans to ruin it. That obviously wasn't the case and now Sportacus is disappointed in only himself for not checking on him sooner.

"If I go to sleep," Robbie grumbles. "I'll just wake up coughing! So I decided to use my time for something useful. Like a teleportation device to send all of the sports equipment to-" he stops himself, placing a hand over his mouth. "Never mind! Spoilers!" His last sentence is punctuated with a small cough as he picks his tools back up and continues his work.

The hero just chuckles. At least Robbie has stopped trying to send him out of town. That would make things awkward, considering they were dating.

"You should really be resting, though, Robbie. You sound sick!"

Robbie scoffs, but he just ends up coughing again. "No, Sportanerd. I was 'sick' a week ago. I'm dying now. This is it. Might as well spend my last moments trying to stop sports." His eyes dart all around him like he's looking for something.

With a roll of his eyes, Sportacus walks up behind him and grabs a tool that somehow made its way behind Robbie's ear. The villain stares at the tool in Sportacus' hand and claps a hand over his ear, scandalized.

"I'll take that, thank you," He says finally.

Sportacus hides the small screwdriver behind his back as Robbie tries to reach for it. "Not until you promise to get some rest."

Robbie's unimpressed. "No! Give it back."

"It's too late for anyone to be awake, Robbie."

"Then go to sleep," Robbie says simply.

"Not until you do."

"Well then! I guess we're both going to be awake all night!" He crosses his arms stubbornly and gives Sportacus a challenging look.

Sportacus refuses to give in. "Robbie, I don't want to fight with you. I'm only concerned for your health."

"You're always concerned for my health. This isn't any different."

The hero refrains from arguing that that's because Robbie is awful at keeping himself healthy. That's an argument for another time. His current concern for his boyfriend's health is the rattle in in the man's chest. The wheeze that accompanies each of his heavy, congested breaths. What was once a cold has now developed into something else and Sportacus doesn't want to see Robbie get worse.

Now, if only he'd stop being so _difficult._

Robbie braces himself against his workbench as another violent fit takes over his body. The coughing is awful and painful, coming straight from his chest. His breath wheezes as he inhales between bouts.

Sportacus drops the screwdriver he was hiding and runs to the kitchen, filling a glass with water, all while still having to listen to Robbie try to take full breaths in the other room.

He returns to Robbie, who has seated himself on a stool.

He is quick to press the glass into Robbie's hand, and Robbie's fit subsides enough for him to take a drink. It seems to calm his throat some, though he's still sputtering and clearing it. Sportacus waits until he's done before nagging him once more.

"Robbie," The villain's eyes are already rolling at the impending lecture. "What do you mean, you'll just wake up coughing?"

Robbie swallows and clears his throat, and even then his voice is an awful rasp of its usual deepness. "I always wake up in the middle of the night. And then I just keep coughing until… well…" he trails off and lets Sportacus finish it for himself.

Sportacus' heart sinks. He's been so preoccupied with the rest of the town that he couldn’t be bothered to come around while Robbie has been coughing himself sick.

"But!" Robbie continues. "I don't have to worry about that tonight! You know why? Because I'm. Not. Sleeping."

Sportacus sighs. "You can't just-"

"Yes. Yes I can," Robbie decides, coughing weakly. "I have things to do anyway!"

The villain is already standing again, back to hovering over his work bench with that ridiculous magnifier over his eye. Sportacus watches in disbelief. Robbie was obviously very sick, so why did he insist on making everything harder on himself?

"Now, if you'd be so kind, give me my screwdriver."

Robbie rubs some sweat from his forehead with another little cough, as if he's refusing to take the time to cough properly, doesn't want to take a breath too deep in case it fires up another awful fit

"Robbie," Sportacus starts. He's surprised that Robbie isn't growling at him already. "Please go to bed." He hugs Robbie's waist from behind and nuzzles into his back, hoping that maybe the closeness will persuade him.

The man tenses under his hug, stopping whatever he was working on. "... No."

"You're tired."

Robbie sighs. "Yes, but-" he stops himself. "Okay, fine! But not because you're being cute!"

"Okay, Robbie."

\-----

Robbie wasn't exaggerating when he said he wouldn't be able to stay asleep. Sportacus woke to Robbie curled on his side, coughing breathlessly. The fit was going on for a while before Sportacus woke, he guesses, as Robbie sounded out of it.

His breath catches in his throat and he's hacking again. He can't stop it, can hardly breathe. The tickle in his throat isn’t giving up easily. Finally, it becomes too much.

A thick, wet cough grabs Sportacus from his sleepy fog, and before he knows it, Robbie is throwing up over the edge of the bed. Robbie starts to swear, but he doesn't even get that opportunity before his breath catches again.

"Breathe, Robbie," Sportacus soothes when Robbie starts to panic. The other man jumps, only just realizing he isn't alone.

"I- I-"

Robbie is staring at the mess, only half of it ending up on the floor while the rest clings to the edge of his bed sheets. It's an awful mix of mucus and undigested food and he can't believe that he just vomited in his bed in front of Sportacus. He's too stunned to apologize or do anything and he's still coughing as Sportacus sits up and rubs his back.

"I know, I know, but don't worry about that right now, alright? Just take deep breaths, Robbie."

"Ca...n't."

"Just try, love."

Robbie does try, inhaling shakily, the same wheeze in his breath. He tries again, successful. Sportacus is relieved for a quick moment before Robbie's breath catches again, and he winces at the sound of more liquid hitting the ground. Robbie gives a miserable whimper as the bout subsides.

Is this what he's been dealing with alone?

\-----

Robbie's cheeks are red, sweat gathered on his forehead and tears rolling down his face from the sheer force of coughing. Sportacus frowns when he turns on the light, giving Robbie a look that he really doesn’t like.

"You look awful," The hero says plainly.

A breathless laugh. "Love you too, Sport! You always know what to say." The words have been sucked of their usual bite by the rasp in Robbie's voice. In fact, he kind of feels like he's going to cry. He would if he knew it wouldn’t cause him to cough all over again.

"I'm sorry, you're just very ill, Robbie. If I had known-"

"Ah ah! Don’t start that now! I'm a grown man and I can handle a little cough by myself."

"You shouldn’t have to! And this is in no way a 'little' cough, Robbie. In fact, I think you're running a fever!"

Robbie's ready to push him away when Sportacus feels his forehead, but he stops. He has been experiencing chills lately… but he just thought it was cold in there as usual. A fever kind of makes sense…

Maybe Sportacus isn't overreacting after all. He doesn’t have a chance to think about it anymore before his lungs try to kill him again.

The first cough comes without a problem, but then it keeps happening and he's right back to where he was when he woke Sportacus, feeling his stomach tense up more and more with each cough until- Ugh, God.

One last cough and Robbie's throwing up into a bin that seems to have magically appeared. He takes it into his hands and stays hunched over it until he's sure that his stomach contents aren't going to make another appearance.

This is why he hasn’t eaten a lot the past week. Robbie found early on that the less he had in his stomach at a time, the less likely he was to throw up when a strong coughing fit took him over.

"Are you nauseous?" Sportacus asks, taking the bin from his hands.

"No, I don’t- I don’t think so? It's just- my gag reflex or something." Although, his stomach doesn’t feel great now that it's been shaken up.

"So you're fine as long as you don’t cough, right? Should I get you some medicine?"

"Euck! No, I hate that stuff." Glorified poison, if you ask him. Nothing that tastes that revolting can be good for you.

"Alright. Just get some sleep." Sportacus rolls his eyes at him with a small smile. His hand brushes against Robbie's forehead once more as he presses a kiss against it.

Robbie feels more cared for than he has all week. He can't blame Sportacus for being busy. Robbie enjoys his alone time, anyway, but this week has been hell without him there.

He's never letting Sportacus leave him alone again.

\-----

Sportacus insists on cleaning up. He hopes that the man can sleep the rest of the night (or rather, morning) if he doesn’t have to worry about anything besides rest.

Soon enough, Sportacus returns from putting the sheets in the laundry, and Robbie is fast asleep. He's propped up against pillows instead of lying on his side like he usually slept, per Sportacus' suggestion, and the rattle in his chest isn't as prominent and threatening now that he's sitting up.

Sportacus is too awake now. While it's still the middle of the night for Robbie, it's morning for him, and he's not going back to sleep any time soon. Sportacus decides to read instead, snooping around Robbie's until he finds a book that sparks his interest. He'll exercise later when he knows Robbie won't be disturbed.

He hopes that Robbie stays asleep and Sportacus decides that he's never going to leave him alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> this is based on an awful illness i had in november. hoooo boy.


End file.
